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The Day Alice Died
Alice Liddell of Oxford, England. Not very many people know of her, right? She was the true child behind Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, you see. She and two of her siblings were very good friends of a certain Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, or Lewis Carroll... But nobody does know for sure certain things. It was the fourth of July- not something celebrated highly in England, I can tell you. Dodgson; a don of his, Mr. Duckworthy; and three Liddell sisters, Lorina, Edith, and Alice; were out on a rowboat ride to their favorite picnic spot. It was normal for this- they were all good friends, and Dodgson had promised little Alice a very nice story. Alice readily enjoyed the story of her adventures in Wonderland, but her sisters were less than impressed. While Lorina and Edith were well brought up, and never would admit such a thing, Dodgson could sense their animosity towards his tale. He quickly told Duckworthy to make ready their picnic. As Duckworthy did the bidding of his friend, Alice gently asked Dodgson if he would be willing to pen the tale for her. Loving Alice's sweet innocence immensely, the reverend agreed to do so for her. However, Dodgson overheard the sisters Edith and Lorina conversing about how horrid and boring the tale had been to them. "Only ever Alice," they said resolutely. "We love our sister dearly, but it is only ever about her!" Dodgson was taken aback by the vanity (well, vain in HIS day). Alice had gone, in that time, to pick some sweet rushes from the riverbank. Dodgson followed Alice, as the Liddell sisters talked gaily to one another, never imagining what would soon happen. Robinson Duckworthy continued to set up the picnic. Alice turned to see Dodgson come towards her, slowly, with a grim look on his face. The girl ran to his arms, seeing him smile so gently at her. Dodgson gripped the collar of Alice's dress, much to her surprise, and roughly yanked her into the air. "You like to hear stories, about yourself?" Dodgson asked in an eerily wheezing tone. Alice nodded, silent. Dodgson smiled, a painful kind of grimace more than anything. "Only ever Alice? Oh, they'll be glad it's 'only ever Alice' ." Dodson set Alice back down by the rushes. "Pick some for me, please," he said. Alice happily obliged, bending to take up the beautiful water plants. Dodgson knelt by her, hidden from all the others, and shoved her forward. Alice's shouts were muffled by the calm river water as she splashed and flailed madly. Dodgson held her down, tears streaming from his face. When at last the child stopped moving, Dodgson picked her up in his arms, now fully crying bitterly, and dried her soaked hair with his waistcoat. He noticed, oddly enough, a young white rabbit hop away in a rather frightened manner. The man stopped crying and carried Alice back to the waiting trio. He would be back for them soon- he had to bring Alice, dear, sleeping Alice, home. With one of his cameras, he took a picture of the dead child, just by a wall. He left her there. Everyone knew that he did it, but nobody could prove it. The Liddells cut all relationships to the man, who later became an author. They re-named their child, Menella, as Alice. She later married Sir Reginald Hargreaves, but retained relationships with a certain son of Queen Victoria. Dodgson never forgot his grave crime, or the reason he had done it. He began an ode to the sisters he used to love with 'ah, cruel three!' and as well, a certain part of 'Through the Looking-Glass and what Alice Found There' involves everyone's child hero, Alice, trying vainly to pick sweet rushes. Category:Reality